


Next

by edibleflowers



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking care of each other is what they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next

**Author's Note:**

> This has some similar elements to "Assessing Damages", though I wrote most of this before that one. Since I was able to cook up an ending, I decided to post this one anyway. Rawr.

By the time they go back to gather Loki into custody, Clint's running on fumes. Natasha can see it in the way he's favoring his leg, that there's a lot more pain he's working hard to conceal. Since he won't stop for medical attention, she forces it on him, making him sit down long enough for a SHIELD medic to dose him with a painkiller and antibiotic. "Loki's not going anywhere," she tells him firmly, her hands hard on his shoulders when he tries to get up, and he sits -- reluctantly -- until the pain recedes. Once he gives her an amiable grin, she lets him up, and they join the others -- also limping and bruised, but all of them determined to make sure the Asgardian is safely in captivity before they rest.

She'd figure that having saved New York from an alien invasion and nuclear strike would be enough, but no, Tony Stark wants to go for shawarma. And what Stark wants, Natasha has already learned, Stark gets. Fortunately for the petulant billionaire's temper, the shawarma place in question has elected to stay open despite being knocked half-apart during the battle, and the staff even manages to appear bored while serving Earth's mightiest heroes.

Thor, with his warrior's appetite, stuffs his face. Steve's falling asleep at the table. Natasha eats mechanically: it's fuel, she needs it to get through the next several hours. Clint, his bad leg propped up on her seat, stares blankly at the basket in his lap until she puts food in his hand; then he brings it to his mouth and eats. 

There is plenty of work ahead of them. New York is still in shock, still blinking and looking around, asking what just happened. Natasha Romanoff has been through this before. She knows what just happened, and what needs to come next.

* * *

Once the food is consumed and SHIELD cars have come around to collect them (Tony's left the suit at the tower and Thor's too tired to fly), Natasha takes Clint back to their apartment. It's not much of a home, just a couple of rooms and a bed, but they rarely need more. She shoulders him to the bedroom, dumps him on the bed and starts stripping him.

"Gonna sex me up?" he slurs, the painkiller in full force now, and she just arches an eyebrow and finishes tugging off his boots. Before she's finished undoing his vest, he's asleep. She gets most of his clothes off, leaving only briefs and undershirt, and then does the same for herself. She's swaying on her feet, bruised, her head still sore from the blow that opened a line in her scalp; she's aching for a shower, among many other things. For now, though, sleep sounds best. Once she's stepped out of her boots and discarded her thoroughly filthy jumpsuit (which needs to be burned), she lets herself collapse next to Clint.

They sleep for three days. That's what it feels like, anyway. There's a world outside demanding their attention, but Natasha locked doors and turned off cellphones before succumbing to exhaustion. SHIELD can deal without them for a few days, and Fury knows full well that they need time to recuperate. When she was younger, she might have felt guilt over being this selfish. Now she knows it's necessary to her well-being, and to Clint's. So, outside of brief wakeful periods, stumbling to the bathroom or to the kitchen to refuel, they let their bodies recover the only way possible: in necessary, healing sleep.

Sometime in the first night, Clint wakes gasping, sweat standing out on his forehead. Natasha tugs him against her, murmuring soothing words in his ear. It's several minutes before he can relax, before the tension drains from his muscles and he sags, his face pressed into her neck. Natasha swallows hard and curses Loki under her breath. It'll be a long time before Clint has fully exorcised this particular demon.

Later -- she's lost track by now of whether it's day or night, the curtains closed tight against any light from outside -- he wakes her a different way, his body warm and lithe over hers. She lets him strip her of her remaining bits of clothing, tugs his shirt over his head and skins his briefs off. When he settles in her, she sighs quietly, contented. He's full and hard and shaking a little, and she holds him in the cradle of her body, stroking his back with gentle hands, humming in pleasure when his mouth dips to her breast. This, too, is a healing, one she gladly welcomes. Afterward, they slip into sleep together, and Natasha will wonder later if she dreamed the whole encounter.

* * *

The next time she wakes, the smell of coffee entices her out to the kitchen. Clint's pouring mugs for both of them, his knee wrapped up securely, and he gives her a smile when he sees her. "She awakes," he says, and offers her a mug.

While she drinks, he scrambles eggs and cooks bacon. It's nothing fancy, but there's a lot of it and they both need to eat. They eat right there, standing up, too hungry to even bother with taking plates to the table (which is covered with weapons and paperwork and too much shit to clean up anyway).

Afterward, Clint puts his plate in the sink. "Gonna take a shower," he declares. "I don't know how you can stand the smell of me right now."

"I can't," Natasha replies, holding her nose. "Go before I dunk you in there myself." As he heads for the bathroom, laughing, she watches him. He's still limping on that leg, though he doesn't show any pain. "Need a hand in there?" she offers, just in case.

"I'm good. Got a system," he says. He gives her a wink from the door, and she smiles in response. She suspects that now he's finally awake and feeling human again, he needs a little alone time to assess the damage. If he needs help, he'd ask; Clint is many things, but he's not stupid enough to rely on a macho front. She turns to the dirty dishes and starts cleaning so that she won't just follow him in there anyway.

There's still a lot of healing to do, physically and mentally, but Natasha smiles as she finishes the dishes, catches herself humming as she puts them away. They've both recharged; they're ready to start moving forward again. As if on cue, her phone rings, and she goes to find it in the pile of clothes she left in the bedroom. Not a surprise: it's SHIELD checking in on them.

"What's next?" she asks.


End file.
